Manager of Misfits - 6: Retaliation

The Hatharen changed.

Grim determination replaced their curiosity. Nenhal no longer looked at the stars at night. Tullund felt that he was watching children - who were all over a hundred years old, if not several times that - learn that death wasn’t a game. While they killed before, they did not know what it meant to be killed. They were not invincible, and they knew this.

On one hand, they took everything more seriously. They never slacked off before, but now they worked with even more efficiency, even in the most basic of tasks. On the other hand, Tullund couldn’t stand it. They were focusing too hard. He could feel the anger, the tension. Something would go wrong, soon, if he didn’t do something about it.

He called them together in the main hall of the tavern.

“Other humans killed my wife. The woman I loved.” He told them. “So I killed them back. That’s how I met Ferene - she helped me kill them. Then I tried to run away from killing, but it found me again. Two of my friends died. Ferene saved me again that time.” He paused, looking at his audience. They watched him, confused but still serious. “I joined Taradira’s army because I realized that I could not run from death, from killing. Ferene once told me that in this world, people are either killers or victims. I am a killer. You are killers. We cannot escape death. We will kill others, and people we care about will die.”

Only the last words got a response from, a darkening of the mood. Worry, fear. They were all thinking that it wouldn’t just be Farathal - more of them wouldn’t make it through this.

Tullund pressed on. “What Ferene didn’t consider is that being a killer is only one small part of what she or I was. What you are. You were already killers. What happened does not need to change you. You can still learn about the world, smile, and laugh. Like you did before. Like Farathal did. You may be old but you are not experienced. Hatharen can never know loss the way a human can. Untold numbers of humans die every day. More than I can think about. We watch our loved ones die, we meet new people, grow to love them, and watch them die. We grow old and die, we grow sick and die, and we kill each other. But we keep going. We never let go of love, of joy, of the reasons to live long enough to grow old. I need you to do the same. You will have forever to deal with these feelings. You will, forever, remember your friend, miss him, and think about what you could have done differently. Humans do it for as long as we can. But we still smile, still laugh, because we are made to deal with loss.”

“If you want to know how humans fight, that’s the most important thing to learn. Remember what your friend loved, remember him fondly. Live for him, and live for each other now. Hold on to what you have, while you can. Would he want you to change who you are?”

They all stared at him, waiting, thinking. He also waited, standing, arms crossed. Eventually Nenhal stepped forward. “Farathal liked sweets. He always asked the mercenaries to bring him candies, once he learned about them.”

Tullund blinked. The Hatharen were nodding, the mood lightening. “He was feeding one of the cats in the military camp.” One of the others added.

“He taught me how to climb.”

They started talking about him. Their experiences. Tullund knew their society was small, but still they shared their stories. Nenhal eventually stepped away from the group, walking over to Tullund.

“Thank you.” She told him.

“I’m responsible for all of you.”

She shook her head. “You are one of us. Even if you aren’t Hatharen. Sit with us.”

He nodded, and she led him back to the group.

“They are on their way.”

Tullund looked at Nenhal, back early from a scouting patrol. Her face was pale. “On this road? How many?”

“A hundred, coming from the north.”

Taking a deep breath to stay calm, he addressed her, his voice level. “How far away are they?”

“Not far behind me. A few hours.”

He looked around at the old tavern. “Burn it all. Take only what we need and burn the rest. All that we stole. We’ll run south and meet up with Frederick’s team, get our bearings. If we need to, we can double back. Once we meet up with Rella and the rest we’ll escape to the north.”

His scheme had hardly lasted more than a month, but he wasn’t done yet. He simply had to switch to something else. That part could wait until everyone was safe. Celgni’s response was swift and strong. They had given him a warning by increasing the guards, and when that hadn’t worked they immediately started searching for him, to stomp him out.

He hoped that his group had taken the majority of the focus.

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The Hatharen set about grabbing what they could, and scattering the stolen food around. “Start fires here, here, and here.” He pointed out three spots, to make sure the whole building went up in flames. “Once it starts burning, we have to run fast, and leave no tracks.”

They ran, keeping the tavern between them and where the imperials were approaching from, masking their escape as best they could. Tullund directed them to keep moving, not to look back until hours later. He sent Nenhal to scout behind them.

“They spread out and are moving slowly, searching the area thoroughly. They won’t catch up to us at this rate.”

Tullund nodded, getting out a map. “The southern group started a lot further east. We’ll move through the three planned bases, west to east, until we find them. There’s also two meeting spots to check.” He showed a rough route, not indicating where the camps or meeting spots were. The Hatharen nodded. Putting the map away, they set out south. Nenhal walked beside him, at the back of the group. She stayed silent, simply nodding at him when he looked at her questioningly.

“Looks empty.” Nenhal reported, coming back from scouting the abandoned farm. “Didn’t see any imperials, but none of the mercenaries either.”

“We’ll spend a day at a meeting spot before checking the town.” He said.

Unlike the wooded area where Tullund’s group harassed the supply trains, the southern roads wove through rocky hills. While it was easy to hide, moving across the roads required climbing over ridges, leaving them completely exposed. Tullund ordered multiple checks every time they crested a rise, making sure they weren’t being watched.

The meeting spot was in a small valley between two hills, perpendicular to the roads. The ground was hard and uncomfortable, though the Hatharen seemed worse off than he was. They were out of their element here - he could see it on their faces even though they didn’t complain. Nenhal, who had stayed close to him the entire multi-day trip, sat down on a rock next to him.

“You don’t have to stick to me.” He told her. She stared at him, not moving.

“I want to be here.” She said, simply.

He let out a sigh. “Alright then. We can put someone else on lookout this time.” She smiled, and called two of the Hatharen over, giving them the orders. The two of them sat in silence for a time, Nenhal occasionally fidgeting, until she finally turned to him again.

“After Farathal died, you talked about losing people. I wanted to talk about them.”

“My wife, and then two people who took me in afterward. What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you want to tell me. The same way we talked about Farathal. You can talk about them.”

He laughed. “It’s in the past.”

“But you keep them with you, don’t you? You live for them? Isn’t that what you said humans do?”

“My wife, Eita. She would have hated this, at first.” He said after thinking for a time. “She was a peaceful woman. Loved gardening. We owned a farm. She would have tried to talk me out of this. Wouldn’t have understood war. I could have explained it to her, and she would have reluctantly looked the other way. She couldn’t agree, or even fully understand, but she would have accepted it needed to be done. To save others, people like her. Fighting a war ruins farms and crops, and burns down towns and cities. She would have seen it is better to end it quickly.”

“Ameila and Garvin…I don’t know. I did not get to know them as well. It was this war that got them killed, so I’d like to think they would understand why I have to do this. It’s the same thing. They were people who worked the land, not killers. Not like me. I want to be able to return to that life, but I won’t make the same mistake I did before. I have to be ready to fight to defend what I have.”

Nenhal listened attentively, watching him. “We will win. For Farathal, for Eita, for Ameila and Garvin.”

He nodded. “We will.”

They spent the night in the valley, and then waited for half the next day, the Hatharen growing restless. At noon Tullund, when Tullund was about to move out, one of the lookouts came running down the slope. “They’re here.”

Tullund’s group moved upwards to meet the mercenaries. He saw Frederick at the front, with the loud-mouthed mercenary at his side. Nine others trailed behind.

Lily was nowhere to be seen.

Taking a deep breath, doing his best not to panic, Tullund stepped forward. “We were just about to go look for you. What happened?”

“Separated. They had mercenaries of their own, and we’ve been clashing with them. Four of my men, and the girl, are at the tower. We can’t go back there, don’t want to lead them that way. We were going to wrap around, try to throw them off with the valley. You being here is lucky, we can turn things around on them, if you’re up for a fight.”

“How many?”

“Thirty.” Frederick said.

Nenhal, at Tullund’s side, shifted from one foot to another, eager. “We’ll do it, then meet up with your stragglers.”

After a brief strategy meeting, the two groups sorted out the plan of attack. Tullund, Nenhal, the Hatharen archers and four of the mercenaries spread out along the ridges near the entrance to the valley. The rest of the Hatharen joined Frederick’s group, forming a line and waiting.

The enemy mercenary group approached, slowly. Tullund watched, peeking over a rocky outcrop, as they too spread out, using their superior numbers to surround the smaller group. The distribution ended up with Frederick standing in front of the same number of people he had initially, all of them - aside from Frederick himself - with weapons drawn.

The two sides stood facing each other, wary. Celngi’s group were on the alert for some kind of trap, hesitant to get closer. They weren’t expecting a second force. Tullund waited until they were spread out enough before releasing an arrow at the closest enemy archer.

The man dropped, falling from the slope he was on, tumbling down back towards his comrades, who started falling back. More arrows started flying from Tullund’s other archers, and Frederick charged forward. A third of the opposing mercenaries were lost before the reorganized, but by then the numbers had turned against them. Finding himself against a proper line, Frederick fell back, allowing Tullund’s archers to fire at the group, several of the remaining mercenaries dropping before the last few split and ran.

Frederick held up a hand, stalling any chase.

“You want to let them go?” Tullund asked, joining the other man.

“They won’t be rejoining the war. They’ll probably retreat up north and try to find a new company to join. There aren’t enough of them to warrant going back to their employer.”